What Do You Have the Courage to Ask For?

What do you have the courage to ask for? What do you have the courage to work for? What is your life’s passion? What must you do most days of your life, and if you don’t, you feel lost? What makes your heart leap out of your chest with excitement and promise?

Have you asked yourself this lately? Do you know what the answers to these questions are for you? Not for others, but for you…do you know?

And once you know what that thing is, that passion. Do you ask for it? Put it out in the universe? Take the steps to work for it? When is the last time you asked for something big? I don’t mean a ‘thing’, like a car, or a new house or winning the lottery. I mean, when is the last time you took time to think about what you want in your life, and then, you asked for it? Following your dream, your passion, the very something that you know you can’t live without.

When is the last time you said it out loud?

Never? Not lately? It’s okay. It is scary to claim it. Say it. Share it. Because then you have to own it. And the fear of failing creeps in. And next thing you know, we stop claiming much of anything, because…what. if.

Oh you guys…this is exactly when we should say WHAT IF??? But with bright shiny, smiley faces, instead of faces filled with fear. What if? What if we can have the very thing that makes our hearts beat faster and leap out of our chests. What if the very thing we are afraid to ask for, but want so badly fills our hearts and minds with love? What if. What if?

Staying put. Not asking. This is the safe option. The safe road. The path we are so very familiar with. But it is the one with less rewards. Fear of failure can be scary. Fear of not knowing what we’re doing can hold us back. But then we should redefine fear, don’t you think? Because I don’t see there being any failure in trying, learning, working, claiming the lives we want by asking for that of which we want. Do you?

I’ve known for quite some time I wanted to be a writer. When I was a teenager, I had a turquoise colored folder with a surf board on it (I loved ALL things tropical, surf like and Hawaiian). Inside, it was filled with blue, yellow and pink loose leaf, wide-ruled paper. Some were blank, some were filled with poems. Poems about boys and broken hearts and loneliness. All those years ago, I don’t remember thinking I wanted to be a ‘Writer’. But I loved writing. Creating. I spent many hours in those years creating. Some of that creating was spent writing, but most of the hours in a week were spent dancing. For years, dancing was my love, my focus, the very thing that made my heart leap out of my chest. I applied to colleges with successful dance teams and dance programs. I was hopeful of a Dance major.

And then, somewhere along the way. Fear crept in. I was certain I wasn’t ‘good enough’ to be a dancer. I was certain I wasn’t ‘classically trained enough’ to make any sort of career out of it. Fear. That’s what I listened to. That and some tiny voice with a far reach that somehow managed to shout, “You are not good enough. You are not enough.” I considered colleges in several states, Florida, Colorado and Arizona to name a few, and in the end…stuck close to home where it was safe. University of Minnesota, Twin Cities. A ten minute drive from my South Minneapolis home. I really branched out by living on campus the first two years (insert sarcasm here), but most weekends, went back home to do laundry for free and to work my weekend job. I dated my high school boyfriend and spent time with my high school friends*. I wasn’t exactly the queen of living on the edge. I liked things familiar and with certainty. I liked knowing what came next and the comforts of home. My older self might say I liked it mundane.

Looking back now, this makes me sad. That at the very time in life when it seems we are most able to make free choices, choices not weighted down by commitments and formalities, well…I just didn’t have the courage to make them. I didn’t realize it then, but I was filled with this irrational fear. Of failure, of change, of choices. Because what if I failed? What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I didn’t like it? So I stayed in my comfort zone. I did try stepping out of this comfort zone and I took a dance class while in college. For credit. I passed, but the entire time, I compared myself to others and felt certain I couldn’t make any sort of career out of it. I tried again, chasing after a passion, and took a literature/writing class. Thinking, maybe this will be it, this will validate my love of writing. Nope. I thought it was too hard. Too demanding. I dropped it. Again, certain I wasn’t good enough.

I did find a major, believe it or not. I earned a B.A. in Sociology. The topic fascinated me. I loved the study of people and how they function in society. After declaring this my major, getting elbow deep in classes for it and interning at a battered women’s shelter, I decided I wanted to be a Social Worker. I wanted to ‘help people’. Except once graduating with my Bachelor’s, I realized you wouldn’t be able to make much money in this field. And so I abandoned it. In reality, the truth really was this. I would have to get a Master’s degree to further a career in Social Work. And once again, I didn’t think I was good enough.

I am sad for my much younger self. The one who continually felt she was never good enough. And unfortunately, I carried that phrase, as if it was engraved on my heart, for all of my life. It hasn’t been until recent years, especially this last year, that I’ve started to feel GOOD ENOUGH. Deserving of good things. Smart enough, tough enough, valued enough. And once I started feeling GOOD ENOUGH, I realized it was time to claim exactly what it is I want in life. In particular, I knew it was time to say it out loud.

I am good enough.

But even that seems a little defeated. As if there is a limit to my abilities. A limit to my life and the possibility of it. So instead, let’s try this.

I AM GOOD. I AM ENOUGH.

And from there, I know it is time for me to ask this universe for what I want. It is time for me to claim. Work for it. Own it.

And guess what? I still have some fear. But it is quieter now. It is not the boss of me. I still worry I’ll fail. But I shush that voice when it creeps in. Sometimes I need reminders. And that’s what friends and support systems are for. I’m still a bit hesitant to ask for it. To claim it. This life I want. But then I remember…I AM GOOD and I AM ENOUGH. And therefore, I will have the courage to ask for it. Work for it. Claim it.

I won’t back away from those things that make my heart beat faster. I won’t fear the very things that make my heart leap out of my chest with excitement and promise.

I will live the life I’ve been too fearful to all this years.

I will ask, what if? With a bright, shiny smiley face, WHAT IF? 

And I won’t be afraid of the answer.